


The Ludwig Bowler Affair

by alynwa



Series: The Ludwig Bowler Stories [2]
Category: Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-20
Updated: 2012-08-20
Packaged: 2017-11-12 13:48:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/491739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alynwa/pseuds/alynwa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ludwig Bowler reappears asking for assistance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Ludwig Bowler was sitting at his office desk on his beloved yacht, Zwei Wölfe (Two Wolves), as it sailed toward Anguilla. He was heading back home to St. Maarten after having attended a three – day THRUSH Central Committee meeting in Caracas, Venezuela but, first, he was stopping at the island next door to buy some classic Cuban cigars to restock his humidor. Somehow, whenever he was with his fellow committee members, his cache of fine cigars would “mysteriously” dwindle away to almost nothing. He rubbed his hand across his brow and sighed. _I am so very, very tired of being beholden to THRUSH_ , he thought, _there is not a gentleman or lady in the lot of them_. He thought back to his last conversation with Sergio Bolivar, the current Chairperson of the Central Committee. 

 

Sergio had claimed the Chair a year ago after executing the previous chairman for the destruction of THRUSH’s Jost Van Dyke chemical lab and the capture of its lead chemist, Wilhelm Bruer, by UNCLE during the rescue of their missing agents. No one on the Central Committee felt any sympathy for former Chairman Tobias Jones after it came to light that he had been aware of Bruer’s sadistic streak; especially after Ludwig had described in stomach churning detail the torture he watched being inflicted on Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin at Bruer’s hands. Central was enraged that the opportunity to kill Solo and Kuryakin had not been taken and thus, they were able to be rescued to continue to be a thorn in their side.*

 

He had invited Sergio to dinner aboard his yacht to sample his chef’s fine German cuisine. The discussions on that last day had been contentious; three hours had been spend arguing about where to build a new satrap and five hours had been spent fighting about expenditures. He had suggested to Sergio that a relaxing meal and sail along the coast for a few hours was what they both needed to restore their sense of balance before heading back to their respective homes.

 

He had taken Sergio on a tour of the ship and after dinner, Ludwig had suggested they sit topside to smoke cigars and watch the sunset. It was a particularly spectacular one that day; the skies and clouds had turned gorgeous shades of red, purple and gold. Sergio turned to Ludwig and commented, “I love these Caribbean sunsets! So different from my home in Barcelona. You must not miss Munich at all!”

 

Ludwig smiled as he handed his superior a glass of Anguillan rum. “It’s funny that you brought that up, Sergio,” he replied, “because I have been thinking that I would like to leave the Caribbean because I _do_ miss Munich. I haven’t been back to Germany once in the eight years I have been here. I didn’t want to bring it up in front of the entire committee without running it past you first but, you could find something for me to do in Germany or Austria, couldn’t you?”

 

“Ludwig, be reasonable! You have been the most productive operative we have ever had in this part of the world. Your contacts, your knowledge of the islands and the waters have been of great benefit to THRUSH. And, judging by this magnificent vessel we are sitting on, it has benefitted you also so, why change things?” He swallowed the last of his drink and sat the glass on the table beside him before leaning back with his hands folded on his lap. His brown eyes gazed at Ludwig with a glint of curiosity and a hint of hostility.

 

Ludwig knew he had to tread carefully. Though he had sided with Sergio throughout the meeting that day, he knew that did not garner him many, if any, favors. He knew his wants and desires were a far distant second to THRUSH’s. “Sergio, I have contacts I’ve maintained in Europe whom I could also influence to assist THRUSH in reaching our goals. I really would appreciate being reassigned.”

 

Sergio steepled his fingers together and tapped his mouth with them. “You are truly unhappy here, Ludwig?” To the responding nod, he said, “Then I must do what I can to get you out of here. I will check with THRUSH Berlin to see if they can use your expertise. I’m sure I can help you. Do not worry.” He stood up and stretched. “I thank you for your hospitality. Now, if I may use the head before I go?”

 

Ludwig had also stood. “Of course,” he said, “Use the bathroom in my quarters while I have one of the crew get the dinghy ready for departure.”

 

That had been two nights ago. He looked out the porthole and saw they were approaching The Port of The Valley in Anguilla. He went topside to watch his ship’s captain expertly put the yacht on a mooring. Once that was done, he took the dinghy into shore so he could grab a cab to go to a wine and cigar store he liked on the West End.

As he walked toward the cab stand he thought, _I think I will buy two boxes of cigars and a…_

 

The explosion drove all thought from his mind except survival. He dove for the ground and looked around to see what was going on. People were screaming and pointing out at the water. His mind recoiled in horror when he realized it was his ship that had exploded. In shock, he stood up and watched in disbelief as other boats pulled alongside to see if they could help. He saw one of his crew being pulled out of the water and rushed to the dock where he was brought ashore.

He knelt beside the badly burned man. “Günter! Was ist passiert? (What happened?)“

 

The man called Günter looked at his employer and said, “Ich war in Ihrem Viertel. Ihr Badezimmer explodierte. (I was in your quarters. Your bathroom blew up.)“ It was the last thing he would ever say.

 

He backed away from the dead man on the ground and took advantage of the confusion to get back in his dinghy unnoticed and begin to cross the channel to St. Maarten. As he negotiated the two and four foot waves expertly, he was thinking _Sergio Bolivar, you bastard! You will live to regret this. All of this._ Angrily, he wiped away the tears of rage and hurt as he mourned his crew and his Zwei Wölfe.


	2. Chapter 2

Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin were in the gym at UNCLE HQ in New York sweating profusely from sparring with each other for the past two hours. Illya had been teaching his partner the French kickboxing martial art known as “Savate.” Though the Russian was more proficient, Napoleon had managed to catch him by surprise with a roundhouse kick called a “fouette” and a lateral reverse kick called a “revers.”

Wiping his face with a towel, Illya smiled at Napoleon and said, “I underestimated how quickly you would learn, Tovarisch. It will not happen again.”

Napoleon grinned and headed for the showers. “We’ll see about that. Come on, our meeting with Mr. Waverly is in twenty minutes.

Exactly twenty minutes later, the two agents were sitting across the round conference table from the Old Man. “Good morning, Gentlemen.”

“Good morning, Sir.”

“I received a very interesting communiqué from a member of THRUSH Central who apparently wants to switch loyalties. He has requested that you two assist him in defecting from THRUSH. You made his acquaintance last year; Ludwig Bowler is his name.”

Napoleon looked over at Illya and then back at Mr. Waverly. “Did he, ah, mention why he wishes to do this? And, did he mention why he wants us specifically to help?”

Mr. Waverly chuckled and replied, “He specifically wants _you_ to help him, Mr. Solo but, said he understands and I quote, “that the little rude Russian will probably tag along.”

Napoleon started to laugh but, thought better of it when his partner shot daggers at him with his eyes.

Mr. Waverly ignored the interplay between his agents and continued. “Mr. Bowler has managed to make his way to a motel in San Antonio, Texas. You will meet him there and ascertain his reasons for wishing to defect and determine what, if any, intelligence he can give us to undermine THRUSH’s plans. If you think the information is valid, escort him to the nearest safe house and keep him there until you can arrange to bring him back here. Once he is here, we will assist Mr. Bowler in setting up a new identity and life.”

Illya asked, “And, if we don’t think the information is valid?”

Mr. Waverly leaned back in his chair and reached for his pipe. “Then, you return to New York without him and he will be on his own, Mr. Kuryakin, to face THRUSH’s wrath.” He spun the lazy Susan until the Bowler file was in front of his Chief Enforcement Agent. “Safe travels, Gentlemen.” He turned around and they knew they had been dismissed.

MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU

Illya pulled into the parking lot of the motel just off Interstate 10 and eased the car into the space in front of the door that, according to the file, had Ludwig Bowler behind it. As soon as he cut the engine, the door opened and Bowler appeared momentarily and gestured for them to enter before moving back inside. Both agents entered cautiously with their hands inside their jackets holding the butts of their Walthers.

Ludwig had retreated to the opposite end of the room to sit on the bed. He said nothing as they checked the room for listening devices, booby traps and other dangers. He would have done the same thing if the situation had been reversed. He respected professionalism.

When Illya was satisfied they had not walked into a trap, he looked Ludwig up and down and noted that the gray eyes he remembered had bags under them and he seemed a little thinner despite wearing heavier weight clothing. His blond hair was in a crew cut rather than the longish, more relaxed style he had sported on Jost Van Dyke. “So, why do you wish to defect?”

Bowler smiled, “No preamble, no greeting, no nothing, eh, Mr. Kuryakin? You cannot help yourself, can you?” He looked at the American who had closed the blinds and turned on a lamp. “Mr. Solo, have _any_ of your manners rubbed off on your partner?”

Napoleon waved his hand as he sat in a chair next to what passed as a dining table. “I’m sure something has but, let’s not be concerned with that right now. How have you been? You look a little worse for wear.”

“I am worse for wear.” Ludwig then proceeded to tell them what had happened in his last meeting with Sergio Bolivar and what had befallen his ship and crew. “I have spent the last five days on the move. When I contacted UNCLE, I was in Anegada. I crisscrossed the Caribbean twice before slipping into the United States. I’m hoping THRUSH thinks I perished in the explosion but, I’m taking no chances.”

Illya looked thoughtful. “From what you have told us, if you were to start a life somewhere unexpected, like here for instance, THRUSH would probably not come looking for you. Why do you want UNCLE’s help?’

Ludwig placed his left ankle on his right knee and leaned on it. “Because when the Central Committee finds out I took money I was responsible for, they are going to go over my background again with a fine – tooth comb looking for clues to its whereabouts regardless of whether or not they think I’m dead and when they do that, I am afraid they will discover I have a twin sister who can no longer protect herself and torture her if they think I’m alive or kill her if they think I am dead. Either way, I can’t take the chance.”

Napoleon interjected, “I know THRUSH can be rather sloppy when it comes to operations but, I thought they were thorough when vetting their members, especially the ones that rise to the Central Committee. How come they don’t know about…?”

“Lutgard, her name is Lutgard. When I decided to join THRUSH, we were twenty – five years old and we decided it was probably best that the organization not know about her and since she had married at eighteen, her last name was different and had been for years. If things were still the same, I would not be too concerned but, three years ago; she was involved in a serious car accident on the Autobahn outside Munich. She has been in a vegetative state ever since and is, she’s not, um, expected to recover.” He sighed deeply and looked away but, not before the two men before him noticed the tears in his eyes. After a moment, he focused on them again and said, “Her husband and children were killed. I’m her only family. The rehabilitation center I have her in is very expensive; much more than I could afford. So, two years ago, I began siphoning money away from the profits I was making for THRUSH and putting it into Swiss bank accounts. It was easy to hide because I made them a _lot_ of money; more than my predecessor had so, they were thrilled that their money had doubled when in reality, it had tripled.”

Illya nodded his understanding. “So when the new ‘you’ takes over your operations…”

“He’s going to hand over _all_ the profits and the Committee is going to realize that I was holding back and they’re going to start looking for me, the money and anyone connected to me. I love her; I cannot be the death of her. I can’t.” He stood up and paced back and forth across the small room. He stopped and said, “I offer this: In exchange for finding a safe haven for me and my sister, I will give you the names and locations of all the current committee members, the locations of every THRUSH bank account that I am aware of and the details of the operations I managed. That information will not bankrupt THRUSH but, it will cost them millions in lost revenue and delay their plans for months. I will not, however, hand over any of the money I stole from them. I need that money for Luti’s care and frankly, I want to continue to maintain a decent lifestyle. Do we have a deal, Gentlemen?”

Illya looked at Napoleon who stood up and said, “We do. Let’s get out of here. UNCLE has a safe house about seven hours away. We’ll be there before dawn.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Mr. Solo, what do you have to report?”

“Mr. Waverly! Good morning, Sir.” Napoleon glanced at his watch. _5:30; that means it’s 6:30 in the morning in New York_ , he thought. _He really doesn’t sleep!_ “We’ve, ah, just arrived at Safe House 23 in Baton Rouge, Louisiana with Mr. Bowler. I believe he has information that UNCLE will find useful but, I need to have something he said verified. According to him, his sister is a woman by the name of Lutgard Schwarz who is a patient at a long-term rehabilitation facility operated by Bogenhausen Hospital in Munich. Could someone from the Munich office check it out, get the details of her condition and send a photo of her to UNCLE New Orleans?”

“I will have them start work on it immediately, Mr. Solo. It should be easy enough to find that out; it’s 11:30 in the morning in Munich. I expect the New Orleans office will be contacting you later on today. How are you getting on with Mr. Bowler?”

“Fine, Sir. Illya and Ludwig are both asleep now; I slept in the car on the way here. Illya will brief me on their conversation later.”

“I see. Once you have received verification of the existence of Mr. Bowler’s sister, you can bring him to HQ for debriefing. Waverly out.”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Waverly,” he responded automatically even though he knew the connection had been cut. He went into the kitchen and made a pot of coffee. _I’m so glad these places are kept stocked with the basics_ , he thought gratefully as he sat at the counter and drank the strong, black brew. Afterwards, he went outside and strolled the perimeter of the house so as to not disturb his partner’s sleep. When he was satisfied they were indeed safe, he re – entered the house and was not surprised to see the Russian standing in the living room watching him enter as he sipped coffee from a mug.

“You just laid down three hours ago; I thought you would want to sleep longer,” Napoleon said by way of a greeting.

“I would have loved to have slept longer but, apparently, you wished to practice your ‘I am an elephant’ imitation by stomping around the house. Fortunately for you, I found some Vienna sausages and Ritz crackers in the cupboard and took the edge off my appetite.” He went to the couch, sat and motioned for Napoleon to join him. When he did, Illya leaned in and said, “Before he went to sleep, Bowler said this would be the first time in a week that he would not have to look over his shoulder. We had a very interesting conversation on the drive here, Napoleon. Interestingly, Ludwig and I have some things in common.”

Napoleon’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really?” he replied, “Like what?”

“Like, we both lost family during the war. His father was Gestapo and was killed during the attempt on Hitler’s life that became known as Operation Valkyrie. His mother, he is convinced, died of a broken heart. He and his sister lived hand to mouth as orphans among the ruins of Berlin until they were found by a great – aunt who moved them to Munich and raised them. He told me that he named his yacht ‘Two Wolves” because his mother used to tease him and his sister that whatever food she placed in front of them, they fell upon it like two wolves. He said that was especially true when he and Luti were trying to survive in post – war Berlin.” 

_I really have to count my blessings that I was spared that kind of childhood_ , Napoleon thought for not the first time since teaming up with his Russian partner. “No wonder he feels so attached to her,” he mused aloud, “They’ve been through hell and back together.”

Illya said, “Ludwig said Sergio Bolivar has no idea how badly he hurt him by destroying that yacht. Killing his crew was bad enough but, that thing reminded him of his sister and the good and bad times they spent together before her accident. He loves her beyond all reason and misses their relationship horribly. I understand how he feels. I never, ever thought I would say this about a THRUSH operative, Napoleon but, I want UNCLE to help him get away from this life.”

MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU

Napoleon walked into the kitchen where Illya and Ludwig sat waiting. He had been in communication with the New Orleans office after a messenger had delivered the information he had requested. Ludwig had pictures in his wallet of himself and Luti at various ages and stages of their life right up until he had joined THRUSH and it was obvious that the woman in the picture lying in a bed was the same person. “Yes, thank you. Solo out.”

Ludwig watched the American agent as he slumped into a chair at the kitchen table. “What is it?”

Napoleon looked first at Illya and then at Ludwig. “The good news is: Your story checks out. Unfortunately, the bad news is: ‘You’ checked your sister out of the facility this morning.”

Illya caught Ludwig before the fainting man hit the floor.


	4. Chapter 4

The three men had left the safe house in Baton Rouge, driven an hour to New Orleans where they met the UNCLE jet at Lakefront Airport for the trip to New York. The only reason they didn’t have to physically restrain Ludwig Bowler from racing off to Europe was because he was assured UNCLE agents in Germany were actively searching for Lutgard Schwarz with more resources at their disposal than he could pull together.

When they arrived at HQ, they went straight to Mr. Waverly’s office. After shaking hands, Mr. Waverly motioned for the German and his agents to sit. Ludwig seemed to have aged overnight since hearing the news about the abduction of his sister. His eyes were bloodshot and he hadn’t eaten or drunk anything in hours.

“So, Mr. Bowler,” Mr. Waverly began, “let me start by saying how distressed I was to hear that THRUSH has once again pushed aside the rules of The Game to go after a member of your family. I have been in near – constant contact with our field offices in Germany and so far, we have had no success locating your sister.”

Ludwig bowed his head and was quiet for a moment. He ran his hand through his close – cropped blond hair and said, “I’ve been thinking, Gentlemen, that my sister is no longer in Germany. Bolivar’s home is in Barcelona and I believe that is where he has taken Luti. I have an idea. May I have a pen and a piece of paper?” He took the items Mr. Waverly handed him and wrote down a number. “This is the frequency THRUSH is using this month to reach the Central Committee Chairman. I destroyed my communicator after my yacht was blown apart so that the homing device in it couldn’t be activated but, if you adjust one of yours to this frequency, I should be able to speak to him once before they change it to close the security breach. You might even be able to activate _his_ homing signal.” He handed the slip of paper to Illya who placed it in his pocket.

“As soon as we finish here, I will go to Communications and start the conversion process,” he assured Ludwig.

Mr. Waverly harrumphed and reached for his pipe and lighter. “I think we are finished for now, Mr. Kuryakin. Convert the communicator and allow Mr. Bowler to attempt to reach this Sergio Bolivar. In the meantime, Mr. Solo; take Mr. Bowler to the Commissary and make certain he gets some nourishment. After he has eaten, take him to Intelligence so they can begin the debriefing process. They can finish after he has spoken to Bolivar. You have your orders.” He began pulling air through his pipe as he held the lighter over the bowl as the younger men exited his office.

MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU

It took the Russian two hours to convert the communicator he got from Section IV to the frequency Ludwig had given him. It was a tricky business because he could not test it at all, as that might have alerted THRUSH to the fact that they had been compromised. In the meantime, Napoleon had managed to get Ludwig to eat, though it wasn’t much and he had been sitting in a conference room answering questions put to him by representatives from Sections I and IV and Napoleon ever since. 

Napoleon’s communicator chirped and he excused himself from the table to answer. “Solo here.”

“Napoleon, Illya. I have converted the communicator. If you bring Ludwig to our office, he can make the call there. “

“On our way, Illya. Solo out.” He turned to face the group seated at the table. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you would excuse us, Ludwig and I have something to do. We will reschedule this for later, yes?” He motioned for Bowler to follow him and they went through the pneumatic door.

Moments later, Ludwig was sitting on the couch in their office with the communicator in hand. He took a deep breath, turned the device on and said, “Sergio, this is Ludwig Bowler. Come in, please.”

“Well, well, well; look who is back from the dead! And, sounding so healthy, too! What can I do for you?”

“What have you done with my sister, Sergio? Where is she?” He made a small adjustment to the device and was rewarded with a small beep that let him know it was tracing Sergio’s signal. He gave a “thumbs up” sign to Illya who stepped outside the office to inform Communications to begin tracing the signal.

Sergio was chuckling and answered, “I’ve done nothing, yet. I did not know you had a sister, Ludwig so, imagine my surprise to find out that not only were you stealing from THRUSH but, you had a secret sibling as well. A miracle – working sibling since apparently, she raised you from the dead. She might not have been so efficient if the device I planted in your bathroom had killed you as I had planned.”

“Why did you do that, Sergio? You killed six men who never did a thing to you or THRUSH. You couldn’t have known then that I was taking money so, what was the point?”

“Because you no longer wanted to do what THRUSH wanted you to do. I let the Committee know that is what happens when you put your own agenda ahead of the organization. How did you survive that explosion, anyway? Never mind, it does not matter. Now that I know you _are_ alive, I can get past my disappointment that Lutgard can’t help me find the money. Perhaps I can find other uses for her.”

Ludwig blanched. “Do not hurt her, Sergio. I will do anything you ask!”

Sergio’s voice turned hard. “Where is the money you stole?”

Bowler replied, “The money is divided up into several numbered Swiss bank accounts. I will bring you the account numbers. I am in the United States; I can be wherever you are in twenty – four hours or less.”

“Why don’t we save you all that travel time and expense and have you give me the numbers now?” Sergio suggested.

“So you can kill her? No, Sergio, absolutely not. I will hand over the account numbers to you, in person, after I have seen my sister and arranged transportation back to Germany for her. What do you say? THRUSH will have its money back and I will have my sister.”

Sergio sighed loud enough for all three men to hear. “I must be getting soft in my old age. Fine, where are you now? I will arrange for you to fly to Barcelona on one of THRUSH’s jets.”

“I don’t think so, Sergio but, thank you. I will make my own way to Barcelona. I will be there sometime tomorrow. Give me a phone number and I will call you once I check into a hotel.”

“So you can figure out where I am? No, use this frequency. And Bowler, do not try anything stupid or I _will_ slit the throat of that _alcachofa_ (artichoke) you call a sister.” A click signaled the connection had been terminated.

Illya picked up the phone when it rang and listened for a moment before hanging up. “Communications confirmed he is in Barcelona but, they were only able to narrow it down to an area of four square miles.”

Ludwig put his face in his hands and shook his head. When he looked up, his eyes were red and teary. “Please do not send agents to search. He is not stupid; if he sees UNCLE agents sniffing around, he will add two plus two and know I have defected and he’ll kill Luti.”

Napoleon picked up the phone and began making arrangements for them to fly to Spain while Illya walked to where Ludwig was sitting and patted his shoulder. “Try not to worry, Ludwig,” he said, “We will do our best to save your sister.” He looked up when he heard Napoleon end the call.

“We’re all set,” Napoleon announced, “Let’s go get your sister.”


	5. Chapter 5

On Napolis Street in Barcelona, there is a small nondescript leather goods store that, on the surface, is not unlike other leather goods stores in the general area. What makes this shop different is that it is the agents’ entrance to UNCLE Barcelona. Napoleon Solo, Illya Kuryakin and Ludwig Bowler had arrived in Spain three hours earlier after flying all night and had been discussing strategies with two of the local agents along with Europe’s Number One, Section Two Thurston Davis of the London office.

Ludwig checked his watch and then addressed the group. “I am running out of time, Gentlemen; I have to contact Sergio soon. Your New York office implanted a tracking device under my skin for which Illya and Napoleon have the corresponding transponder. Knowing him as I do, I am fairly certain that Sergio and my sister are not in the same location. He will probably have me strip searched to see if the account numbers are written on something or if I have a microdot containing the information so he can renege on the agreement and kill me. I will tell him that the numbers are in my head and prove it by giving him one number for an account that contains $100,000. Once he verifies that information, I’ll tell him that the other accounts contain millions and I will give all those numbers to him as soon as I see that my sister is unharmed and released. The problem is: How do I let you know that I am with Luti?”

Agent Davis motioned for Napoleon to lean closer and the two Section Heads conferred while the others waited. They seemed to reach an agreement and when they sat back, Davis looked around the room and said, “Napoleon and I have decided that you need to be wired so that we can monitor what is going on and being said. When you have located your sister, you will use a code word and we will rescue you both.”

Ludwig countered, “How can I wear a wire? I told you I will be thoroughly searched!”

Napoleon replied, “Research and Development has created a tiny, powerful microphone that can be inserted into your watch. To be on the safe side, we should also have one hidden in your shoes.” He looked at Thurston who nodded agreement.

Illya said, “I have an idea. You told Sergio that you would arrange for your sister to be returned to Germany. Tell him that you have arranged for a private ambulance to take her to the airport. If there is a phone where she is, call this number.” He quickly wrote a number on a piece of paper and handed it to Ludwig. “Tell whoever answers where to come. Agents Flores and Santiago here will be disguised as medical technicians and come in for Lutgard. They will not be armed; their mission will be to remove your sister from harm’s way. A strike force will be there thirty seconds after they depart if all goes well. If Sergio makes a move before they have taken your sister, the strike force will enter immediately.”

Ludwig sighed and said, “This is all very dangerous but, I don’t see any other way. When I see my sister, I will call her by her nickname; ‘Luti.’ If I have not called this number in fifteen minutes, it means there is no phone and the strike force must enter while she is still there. They must be careful to avoid shooting her. Illya, may I speak with you privately?”

The two men stepped into the hallway and after approximately three minutes, they re – entered the room. Ludwig looked at the two UNCLE agents in whom he had entrusted the lives of his beloved twin and himself. “Napoleon, Illya, thank you. I can never repay you for what you are doing.”

Napoleon smiled and said, “The information you’ve given UNCLE is payment enough. Call Sergio while we get everything else ready.”

MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU

Ludwig stepped out of the cab in front of a beautifully appointed house on Biesa Street. Before he did, the UNCLE agent driving the car had said, “I will be two blocks away on the _Passiege de Montjuic_ with the rest of the strike team. Solo and Kuryakin are monitoring you from a truck parked on Piquer Street. If you move to change location, so will we. Good luck.”

As he stepped up to the ornately decorated wooden door, he prayed, _Gott in himmel, I know I don’t deserve a favor from You but, I’m asking for it anyway. Please let me get Luti out of danger_. His knock was answered by a man he recognized as one of Sergio’s personal bodyguards. “Tomas.”

Tomas sneered at him, “He is expecting you; he’s in the study. Follow me.”

He was led into a room where Sergio sat behind a desk sipping a glass of red wine. He looked up as they entered and smiled. “Ludwig! How nice of you to come on time! Would you care for a glass of wine? It’s a Rubera del Duero. Please, sit down.”

Ludwig demurred, “No thank you, Sergio, I’m not thirsty and I’d rather stand. I do not wish to appear rude but, I have a plane waiting. I want to conclude our business quickly. Where is my sister?”

Listening in on Sergio and Ludwig’s conversation from a panel truck a few blocks away, Illya glanced at Napoleon and deadpanned, “Apparently, some of my rudeness rubbed off on _him_. Let’s hope all goes well.”

Napoleon nodded and refocused his attention on what was happening just as Sergio ordered Ludwig searched. They listened as he was stripped down to his underwear and Tomas told Sergio all he found was a slip of paper with what appeared to be a phone number.

Ludwig, who had acquiesced to the search and stood silently as he clothing was removed, finally asked, “Do you mind if I get dressed?”

Sergio said magnanimously, “Why not? What is this number?”

“That is the number to the ambulette service I retained to drive Lutgard to the airport. The Swiss account numbers are all in my head. If you like, to show good faith, I will give you one that you can check now. I will give you the rest as soon as I see my sister and she is in the ambulette. Give me a pen and paper, please.” He wrote a number and handed it to Sergio who, in turn, handed it to Tomas who exited the room.

“Sergio, when he comes back, he will tell you that the account has $100,000 in it. The other accounts have a total of 56 million dollars. I will hand it all over for my sister’s life.”

Illya exhaled, “ _Bozhe moi_ , Napoleon, do you think he is telling the truth?” Napoleon signaled for him to be quiet.

Sergio was saying, “I don’t understand you, Ludwig. Why steal all that money only to be willing to give it up to save the life of, of, of a _vegetable_ who can’t know or care what happens to her? If the situation had been reversed, I would have stayed dead and let whatever happened to her, happen.”

Ludwig shook his head. “Then, I will not waste my breath trying to explain it; you would _never_ understand because, obviously, you have never loved anyone more than you love yourself. The money was for her; if she is dead, the money means nothing. If she is alive and I don’t have the money, I will find another way to pay for her care.”

Just then Tomas returned and whispered into Sergio’s ear. He smiled and stood. “Apparently, that number is the real thing. Get the car, Tomas. Come, Ludwig, I will take you to your precious sister.”

MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU

Lutgard was being held in a house located on Villar Street. Ludwig sat silently next to Sergio in the back of the Mercedes – Benz during the ride across town with his hands clasped together between his knees while he forced himself to remain calm and focused on what was happening. He had no doubt that Sergio had a plan in place to kill him and his sister the moment he got the Swiss account numbers. _I have no choice_ , he thought, _I have to believe that our plan will work. I have to trust that Napoleon and Illya are tracking my whereabouts and everything will be all right_. The car pulled alongside the curb.

“We’re here,” Sergio announced. He slid out of the back seat and waited for Ludwig to follow. With Tomas bringing up the rear, they walked into the house straight to the back. To the left of the kitchen was a small room that should have been the dining room but now contained a hospital bed and medical equipment. A woman was lying there with the covers pulled up to her armpits. A nurse sat next to the bed.

“Luti,” Ludwig breathed. He stepped around Sergio and went to look down at the face that closely resembled his own. He leaned down, kissed her cheek and then looked at the nurse. “Who are you?”

Sergio answered for her, “I am not the monster you think I am. There has been a nurse with her the entire time since she left the rehab center. Her care has been… adequate.”

“Well, thank you for that, at least. May I use the telephone to call for my ambulette? It should take them no more than fifteen minutes to get here. They are based near the Hospital de Sant Pau. Once she is safely gone, I will write down the numbers to the accounts. If you wish, I’ll stay long enough for you to verify them and then I will catch a cab to the airport. Is that acceptable?” _If he thinks I am clueless about the danger, he might lower his guard._

Sergio’s smile reminded Ludwig of a shark opening its mouth to take a bite out of its prey. “That is more than acceptable, Ludwig. There is a phone on the wall in the kitchen.”

MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU

Napoleon informed the team of agents waiting to storm the house to stand ready; the assault would happen in approximately twenty – five minutes. He stood to reach for his jacket but, Illya grabbed his arm. “Napoleon, you really need to stay here to monitor what’s happening and coordinate with the team. I’ll go in with them.” 

Napoleon started to object but decided that his partner was being logical. ‘Fine but, be careful; we have no idea how many THRUSH are really in that house.”

MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU

It is amazing how quickly a well thought out plan can crumble when a random detail is not taken into account. In the case of UNCLE’s lightning strike to rescue a THRUSH defector and his comatose sister while capturing the Chairman of the THRUSH Central Committee, the detail was that Sergio’s bodyguard Tomas had fought with UNCLE Agent Antonio Flores during a failed raid against a Madrid satrap eight months prior and had been scarred by him. As soon as Tomas saw Flores enter the room with the gurney, he pulled his Luger and shot him dead. Agent Santiago, who had been at the front of the gurney, knocked the gun from Tomas’ hand and began to fight with him. 

Sergio and Ludwig both lunged for the gun which had slid underneath Lutgard’s bed. The nurse, who had answered the knock on the door to let the agents in, ran out in a panic straight into the arms of the strike force team whom Napoleon had alerted to move immediately after he heard the gunshot and the nurse’s screams.

Illya was the last to enter the house. The team had swept through both floors to secure it and now two agents had their guns trained on Ludwig and Sergio, who were wrestling each other furiously for control of the gun in their hands. Tomas lay unconscious on the floor where Santiago had left him. No one dared fire because they were struggling wildly directly in front of the hospital bed.

The gun was between their bodies out of sight of the UNCLE agents in the doorway. Suddenly, a single shot rang out. Illya aimed at Sergio’s head but, it was unnecessary as Sergio’s eyes went wide as he slumped down Ludwig’s body to the floor. The German kicked him aside and turned to his sister. “Luti!” he crooned, “Luti, everything is alright now. We are safe.”


	6. Chapter 6

_Three months later…_

Napoleon Solo, Illya Kuryakin and Adalwolf “Wolf” Schmidt, formerly known as Ludwig Bowler, were sitting in the living room of Schmidt’s modest new home outside Plattsburgh, New York. His sister, Luti, was now a patient in UNCLE’s rehabilitation center for wounded agents located in Cadyville, a few miles away. 

“And, if your sister ever comes out of her coma,” Napoleon was saying, “UNCLE has created a new identity for her as well.”

“That is wonderful,” Adalwolf replied, “but, I have long ago given up hope that my Luti will come back from wherever her mind has taken her. It is enough for me that she is safe and I can care for her.”

“You never know, Wolf; UNCLE’s Medical Unit has worked near – miracles before,” Illya stated. “Mr. Waverly was so pleased to confiscate some of THRUSH’s millions, that he has assured Napoleon and me that if they develop a new treatment for brain injury, it will be offered to you as an option for Luti.” He reached into his jacket’s inner pocket and withdrew a piece of paper. “I keep forgetting to give this back to you,” he said as he handed it over. “It is good that I did not have to use it.”

Wolf smiled. “I am _very_ glad you did not have to use it.”

The agents stood and prepared to leave. Wolf shook each man’s hand happily and showed them to the door. As they drove away, he waved and went back inside.

As Illya guided the car toward Route 3, Napoleon turned on the radio and then watched his partner as he drove. Illya glanced over and said, “What?”

“What was on that paper you gave Schmidt?”

“Remember when he and I stepped into the hallway at UNCLE Barcelona? Yes, well, he had written down the account numbers for all the money he had stolen and asked me if I would make sure that Luti received care in the event that he was killed.”

“And, if both of them had been killed?”

“He said I could keep it.”

Napoleon’s eyes widened in amazement. “Really? He trusted you that much?”

Illya nodded. “It was our common experiences during the war that made him decide he could trust me to do it. I had told him on the drive to Baton Rouge that I had lost my sister and would also do anything to have her back with me.”

Napoleon nodded his head, “I understand. So, ah, how much money are we talking about?”

The Russian shook his head. “I don’t know. He never told me and I never contacted the bank.”

Napoleon whistled. “Do you think now, Illya, that he was telling Bolivar the truth when he said there was 56 million dollars in those bank accounts?”

Illya smiled as he merged onto Route 87 South to New York City. “I guess we’ll never know, Partner.”


End file.
